


Another Day in Paradise

by Annie46fic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Gore, Language, Violence, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-16
Updated: 2011-09-16
Packaged: 2017-10-23 19:32:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/254059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annie46fic/pseuds/Annie46fic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An old hunter friend of Sam & Dean’s dad invites them to spend a few weeks in her luxury resort in Florida.  With beach barbeques and topless girls it is everything Dean has ever dreamed of, so why does Sam keep seeing something different?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Day in Paradise

**Author's Note:**

> Written for lj comm spn-summergen 'free for all' challenge using a prompt from chiiyo88 - _'Casefic/horror - The brothers stumble on a community of friendly people, on a hunt or on their free time, whichever. Those people welcome the brothers to stay with them and rest a little. One of the brothers (author's choice) thinks something fishy is going on, the other thinks he's paranoid and should just enjoy it while something good is happening to them. Until the suspicious brother disappears. Can take place in whatever season.'_
> 
> Thank you to ala_tariel for the wonderful and scary banner

  
[   
](http://pics.livejournal.com/annie46/pic/0001e1z6/)   


 

The hotel was like nothing Dean had ever seen. It was huge, floor upon floor of rooms, large glass windows that were clean and clear, red bricked with an actual concierge and bell boys who took your luggage.

Beyond the hotel was a beach, golden and endless, the sand sloping down into an azure blue sea. Women cavorted on said beach; shoe string bikini’s and flat brown stomachs, blondes, brunettes; a healthy young man’s waking dreams.

“Wow, Sammy.” Dean was trying to stay cool but couldn’t keep his voice low, his statement coming out squeaky and over impressed. “We really lucked out this time.”

“Yeah.” Sam shuffled from foot to foot and heaved his shabby duffle back onto his shoulder. “Like they are gonna let us actually walk in that place, let alone stay there.”

“Rebecca is dad’s old friend.” Dean shot a glance over to where his brother stood, sweating and fidgeting. Sam had lost some weight, his shoulders stooped and his eyes shadowed. Since the wall had come down and everything was shot to hell (literally), his brother had been quiet, his expression haunted. They had kept hunting because it seemed to give Sam some satisfaction, something to concentrate on but it wasn’t enough, could never be enough and Dean hoped that this little _‘break’_ would do both of them some good. “And she wants us to do this. Come on Sam, simple salt and burn and then a few days – hey maybe weeks – in the Florida sunshine. Who could say no to that?”

“Yeah, cause the jobs we have done for dad’s friends in the past have been so successful.” Sam’s half smile took the fierce bite out of his words. “Deacon – Martin – those hunts were a blast.”

“We’re talking a prison and an asylum.” Dean shifted, his jacket hot and heavy on his back. “This is a luxury hotel with all the trimmings; not quite the same, is it.”

“I guess not.” Sam put his duffle down and wiped a hand across his forehead. “It is pretty nice here.”

“Pretty nice is a damn understatement.” Dean shrugged off his jacket and began to stride towards the hotel. “This is awesome!”

****

Rebecca was small and curvy; a natural blonde and looking nothing like Dean expected. She was warm and motherly but had a strange sensuality about her and it made him wonder if his dad had ever had a fling with her. He often felt guilty when he thought of dad and sex but he had to admit that his dad hadn’t lived as a hermit since his mom died and that Adam had been a testament to that.

Rebecca showed them to their room and, even Sam, had to admit that it was incredible. They could see the sea from their huge bay window and the bathroom was bigger than some of their usual motel rooms. There was a complementary basket of fruit and a bottle of champagne on the table and a huge, flat screened TV in the _‘living’_ area. The beds looked big enough even for Sam to be enveloped in them and Dean threw himself down on one of them as soon as Rebecca left, hand reaching for the remote.

“Bring over the champagne and fruit Sammy,” he said on a sigh. “We are gonna have a party.”

****

They showered and Dean felt better than he had in years. He laid on his massive bed, with the curtains billowing from the window nearby, and sniffed at the fresh sea air, the tang of salt strong in his nostrils. Beside him, on his own bed, Sam stretched out and gulped down what was left of the champagne straight from the bottle. Sam looked a little better, his cheeks flushed pink, his eyes bright and Dean congratulated himself on how things had gone, telling himself that he was – truly – awesome and that things were definitely on the up.

****

Sam opened his eyes wondering what had woken him; he hadn’t been dreaming, which in itself was a blessing and, for once, there were no thoughts of hell or torture. He sighed for a moment and was on the verge of rolling back onto his side again when the smell hit him. Instead of brine and fresh air he could smell mold and rot; rotting earth and damp, the stench of death. He swallowed back bile and peered into the darkness, his heart beginning to thunder with residue fear. He couldn’t see the white washed walls of the room nor could he see the wide, clean windows; instead he could only see a dark, dingy room, small and cramped like a tomb, bones crumbling around him, open graves and decaying corpses.

“Dean!” The word was out before he could bring it back and he knew how loud, how panicked he sounded, “Dean!”

He heard his brother grunt; saw him roll over and fumble for the light switch. Sam opened his mouth to warn Dean, to tell him that there was no light and that they were in a graveyard, maybe in a mausoleum, when brightness flooded his senses and the hotel room came flooding back into focus, the window wide, the sea air fresh and tangy.

“Sammy?” His brother’s hair was sticking up all ways and his green eyes were dazed, confused. “Did you get another face full of hell?”

Sam shook his head; this was nothing like his usual nightmares, visions and memories. There had been no torture or pain or fire. He bit his lip.

“No.” He forced a smile. “Guess I drank too much champagne.”

“Yeah? Such a lightweight,” Dean laughed and Sam felt better, comforted. “Well tomorrow, right after we have heard about the job we have been invited to a beach barbeque.” He grinned wider and Sam leaned back on to the bed, unable to stop his own grin answering Dean’s. “Yeah Sammy,” Dean continued, arms behind head, eyelids drooping just a little. “Girls involved, scanty bikini’s and lots of wet t-shirts. Not to mention real meat, no salad Sammy boy, but nice, juicy steaks, extra onions and everything.”

Sam felt his own yawn over take him and he chuckled under his breath. Nightmare or hell vision, his brother always took care of him and – for that – he was grateful.

****

The ghost, it seemed, was rumored to haunt the beach. Rebecca hadn’t seen it herself but she believed that it was the restless spirit of some poor schmuck who had been attacked by a shark. It was almost funny and Dean had to bite the inside of his lip to stop from sniggering as Rebecca told them about it.

She had invited them down to breakfast; thick bacon and eggs that were just right, pancakes and syrup, strong coffee and huge chocolate muffins. Dean felt as if he had died and gone to heaven and he was relieved to see Sam actually eating something, chocolate smeared around his mouth, crumbs in his hair. Sam was smiling too and the light in his eyes was back. Dean knew they had a long way to go as far as Sam’s mental state was concerned but this hunt was so simple it was almost too easy. Rebecca thought that the ghost was still hanging around because not all of his body was found. _Unfinished business_ she called it and Dean was forced to agree. The only thing he didn’t understand was why Rebecca didn’t do anything about it herself. She had been a good hunter by all accounts and Bobby was quick to commend her which was a miracle in itself so it seemed odd that she needed to call someone in. However, Dean wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth and couldn’t wait for this afternoon when it would be wall to wall hot chicks and enough food to make everyone happy.

Dean didn’t do shorts and he felt a little hot and uncomfortable in his denim jeans and wife beater, sweat already trickling down the back of his neck. Sam was wearing cargo pants and his feet were bare. He wore an old blue t-shirt that stretched across his chest and his hair hung in his face. The chicks couldn’t keep their eyes off him and Dean felt envious and happy. Happy knowing that his baby brother still had it, that Sam was calm, contented and more importantly making an effort to enjoy himself.

****

Sam watched as his brother played football with the girls; in the distance he could see the flames from the barbeque and smell the tempting scent of chicken and herbs. It was still hot and the sun was like an orange flame as it sank slowly into the sea. Sam yawned and sat back on the sand, hands behind him, head resting. He saw Rebecca walking towards them and was about to lift a hand to greet her when something seemed to flicker, turn misty and everything changed.

Sam knew that this was no hell vision; he could see the people on the beach but they were inhuman, not demons, but something hideous and dark. They were like rotting corpses, their skin flayed from their bones and they no longer walked on sand but on stinking earth, the mud cracking beneath their feet. They were dead yet alive, zombie’s maybe, Sam didn’t know. The scent of cooking was replaced by the stench of burning flesh and it cloyed the back of his throat, reminding him of hell. He squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them again to look, desperately, for his brother. Dean would go insane if he thought Sam was having a _‘hell’_ moment but he needed to get to him and quickly. As Sam rose to his feet he saw Rebecca for the first time; she was naked, hair flowing behind her, alabaster skin covered in rivulets of blood that was not her own. She was swaying and the things with their rotting flesh and hollow eyes moved to circle her, mouths open, hands raised, finger-bones showing through paper thin skin. Sam opened his mouth and nothing came out but a long, desperate scream. It seemed to shatter the air, break some sort of spell because when he finally managed to stop himself the vision was gone and his brother was standing in front of him, eyes open wide, hands on his shoulder mumbling something about sunstroke as Rebecca, fully clothed now and full of concern, clucked around, her voice low and sympathetic as she asked Dean just exactly what was wrong.

****

Dean watched Sam sleep; he hadn’t done it for a while, had done it all the time when Sam first got his soul back but he had – finally – accepted that Sam now had a soul and that he didn’t need to be watched like a baby. However, since the wall had come down, Dean had spent a considerable amount of time watching Sam. Sam was plagued with nightmares again and it was as bad now as it had been when he had collected his brother from Stanford and Sam had had to watch Jess burn on the ceiling. Dean had hoped that this place, this wonderful luxurious hotel, would be a distraction, would give Sam some peace both mentally and physically but it didn’t seem to be working and Dean was at the end of his tether.

Sam’s eyes flickered open and he gazed up at Dean, fuzzy and confused. He put a shaking hand up to grab Dean’s wrist and his voice was rough, frantic.

“I saw . . . ,” Sam swallowed, throat working. “I saw zombies. Flesh rotting . . . they – Rebecca was there and she was naked.” A flush appeared over Sam’s pale cheekbones and he coughed loud and wet. “This is all wrong Dean. This place. Please, I wanna go,” he sounded so young, vulnerable and Dean felt his throat close.

“Sammy,” he kept his voice low and gentle. “Look out of the window, dude, it is a lovely place. It's paradise. It’s just the wall coming down, Sam. Believe me, I know what tricks your mind can play on you when you remember hell.”

“It isn’t hell, Dean!” Sam’s voice wavered and Dean saw honest to God fear in his eyes. “My visions of hell never have other people in them – just me and Lucifer or Michael, just torture, fire and pain. This – this is different. I can see them all, Dean. I don’t think this is a simple salt and burn case.”

“Look, Sam, give it another day or so – Rebecca says to rest up and she has recommended a private beach she said we can use. Nude swimming, Sammy. Remember how much you used to like that when we were kids.”

“I was ten,” Sam choked a laugh and Dean could see the concerted effort he was making. “I don’t think nude swimming would be quite as much fun now.”

“Still be cool though.” Dean kept the utter relief out of his voice. “Come on Sam, put it all behind you and let’s have some fun in this joint. Lets face it, it is gonna be a long, long time before we get anything as good again.”

****

Sam is trying; God he is trying but he can’t relax, can’t get the tension out of his shoulders, the images of Rebecca dancing naked amongst zombies out of his mind. The sun beats down hard and both of them have retreated under a large stripy umbrella, Dean actually wearing denim cut-offs, his pale skin slathered in sun block, freckles standing out on his nose, chest and shoulders. The sea is blue and calm and when they swam in it earlier, at Dean’s insistence, warm. This place really is paradise and Sam sips at the cocktail that Dean fetched them from the beach bar, the taste of it sweet and tempting in his mouth.

Beside him Dean is sleeping; eyes closed, arms flung out in a casual way, no tension, no indication that Dean is anything but totally at ease. Sam can’t help but smile down at his brother; sprawled out on the sand like a starfish, eyes closed and mouth open. This is the happiest that Sam has seen Dean look for a while and he feels guilty for almost spoiling it.

He looks out again across the sea and something happens; one minute it is calm and blue, the next red and rough, slamming hard against the earth. Mud covers the surface, seeping and black, the stench of it making Sam want to be sick; goose bumps rising on his arms and legs, the sudden cold causing him to shiver, his head thumping.

Things crawl from the earth; freshly buried corpses seemingly looking for blood. They move towards Sam and Dean like something out of a really bad zombie movie. Sam backs up, head crashing into – what was once – the umbrella but is now a large, gnarled tree trunk, the branches of the tree bare and twisted above him. He can smell the creatures as they get closer, smell earth and rot. Hands like claws reach out for him, nails scratching and he screams, can’t hold back the terror, Dean shooting up beside him, frowning, clearly not seeing the same as Sam when he says, clearly and slightly freaked, “Sam! What the fuck?”

Sam can’t answer him; the things have come so close now that they are on top of him, hideous cold hands on his throat, choking him, dragging him down, down to the earth, claws in his face and neck. He can’t breathe, can’t say a word and all he can hear is Dean’s voice trying to reach him, crying out, _Sammy_ over and over again.

****

Dean awoke with a start; he shot up and nearly banged his head on the stupid stripy parasol, his mouth dry, the sweet cocktail he had been drinking in a puddle on the floor next to him. He could have sworn he heard Sam scream but when he turned to help his brother Sam was gone.

He ran up and down the beach screaming his brother’s name; panic setting in after several circuits. Sam wasn’t in the sea or at the bar. He wasn’t in the small diner or the hotel pool and it was getting late and dark and Dean was hyperventilating.

****

“Yes, I saw Sam.” Rebecca smiled sympathetically. “I think he had had enough Dean, He said something about going to see Bobby, said he would get in touch with you”

“What?” Dean was aware of his mouth hanging open stupidly.

“I’m sorry Dean but he was insistent that you stay and enjoy yourself; we are having a party tonight.” She smiled, all red lips and white teeth. “And a wet bikini contest, we hoped you might be the judge.”

Dean stared at her for a moment; when he stared out of the window behind her head he could see sun-bronzed girls, breasts uncovered, stomachs flat. He frowned; he was going to say something, had to do something but he couldn’t help but stare at the pink flesh, the perky nipples, the blue sea and the distant horizon.

“I guess he’s an adult; he’ll be okay.” Dean felt his mouth curve into a smile, his tongue stuck between his teeth. “I’ll give Bobby a call in a few hours, see that he got there okay . . . wet bikini contest, you say?” He grinned. “Count me in.”

****

Blood; he could taste blood and his nose was blocked with dirt and grime. He couldn’t open his eyes and his skin was clammy, wounds stinging. All around him he could hear growling, snarling, muttering; he could feel things pulling at him, feel his own blood trickling and he thought that he must be back in hell.

****

Dean lay on his bed and swallowed down the champagne; it tasted awesome and he couldn’t wait to try the steak that was coming – via room service – with another glass. He was relaxed, a little wasted, his mind on bare breasts and hot chicks. However, something was gnawing at him, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on, something he should be doing. He rolled over to where Sam’s bed was and then it hit him hard; the force of it almost bowling him over.

Sam – Sammy; his fucking brother wouldn’t just up in the middle of a gig and go to Bobby’s. Even with the hell wall coming down Sam wouldn’t do that to Dean. Hell, even when the wall had fallen Sam had managed to get to Dean and Bobby; Sam had tried to save them. Dean got up so quick that the bottle smashed onto the floor and for a moment Dean saw something other than polished wood and fake fur rugs. He saw earth and grime and blood but as quick as it appeared in his frame of vision, the quicker it vanished again and Dean closed his eyes and breathed hard through his nose.

He had to find Sam.

****

His dad’s journal told him the whole truth; a truth he had not been able to see at first but now could see clearly enough. Rebecca was not a hunter and never had been but worse than that she was not an ally of John Winchester but an enemy and Dean hadn’t seen it, hadn’t read the entry, had been brainwashed into believing everything he had seen, everything he had heard.

 _ **Rebecca Maxwell is a necromancer**_ his dad had written _**she summons those beyond the grave and uses them to do her bidding. Her power is strong but every ten years she needs fresh kills, new blood if you will, to keep that power alive. She lures young men to her lair – much like the sirens of old and then she uses their energies to _recharge_ her batteries. She uses ancient magic so that these men only see what she wants them to see, she tempts them, entices them and they die happy but they die and we must try and stop this happening, we must find a way to destroy her once and for all.**_

That was the last entry; Dean guessed his dad had worked on this case only a few months before he reunited with them, a few months before he died. Dean needed answers and he needed them fast but most of all he needed to find Sammy, needed to find him before it was too late.

****

It was as if his eyes had been permanently opened; suddenly there was no luxury hotel, no blue sea, no golden sands. Instead, he saw things for what they were, a primordial graveyard, mausoleums cracked open, tombs with their lids askew. He could see the dark shapes that flitted across stinking earth, hear the moans of the long dead and he shuddered, his heart thundering in his chest as he searched for his brother.

He could only guess as to why Sammy had been able to see beyond Rebecca’s illusions and he thought it might have to do with the hell wall and the fact that his brother’s freaky brain was so open to things _beyond the veil_ so to speak. He felt so goddamn guilty for not actually listening to Sam and he swore to whoever might still be listening that he would make it up to his brother that he would treat Sam to a proper holiday that he would make sure that Sam had everything he had ever wanted in his life.

****

The place was like a slaughter house and Dean found himself missing the luxury hotel even if it was just in his head; he could smell rotting flesh and old blood, the scent of iron strong in his throat. He kept calling his brother’s name, wanting desperately to find Sam before Rebecca did – did – did what? He had no idea what Rebecca’s end game was but he needed to find his brother before whatever happened happened.

The earth moved beneath his feet and he stumbled over an old, cracked stone; for a moment he thought he might be hearing things but there was something coming from below the ground. He could hear moaning and stifled panicked sobs and then, to his utter amazement and relief he saw white fingers poking through the mud, fingers that were whole and complete.

“Sammy!” Dean fell to his knees and began to scrabble in the dirt; he almost wept when the fingers grabbed his wrist and he was able to pull hard and fast, so that all of a sudden there were hands, wrists and finally shoulders. “Fuck, Sammy.”

His brother’s face was smeared with dirt and blood; scratches decorated his face, his knuckles and his neck. There were dried tears on his cheekbones, wildness in his fuzzy hazel eyes.

“Sammy, I am so sorry, so damn sorry. I let my heart rule my head and – and I just couldn’t see beyond the luxury of the place, couldn’t believe that we had finally lucked out.”

“S’okay Dean,” his brother’s voice was harsh, mouth almost brown with earth, teeth stained. “Just – just get me out of here.”

Dean hauled Sam out of the hole and into his arms; it wasn’t really the best time for a chick flick moment but he had to hold his baby brother, make sure he was alive and whole. All around them the earth moved and things crawled out of it, things Dean didn’t want to see or acknowledge. He knew that Rebecca was controlling all of it but he didn’t know why or how.

“With her mind.” Sam leaned against him still, damp face pressed into his neck. “She is doing it with her mind. She is old, she is powerful and her power is growing.”

“How do you know?” Dean kept his arms around Sam, holding him upright.

“I can feel it. I can feel her.” Sam shrugged. “I guess it must be something to do with the hell wall. I-I saw it right from the start – glimpses of it.”

“I’m so sorry, Sam.”

“Not your fault,” Sam’s voice was still harsh but Dean could hear the forgiveness there. “You just wanted something good for us.”

“What does she want? How can we stop her?”

“I don’t know what she wants and to be fucking honest I don’t care,” Sam croaked out. “But it is her brain that is doing all this and the best way to stop her is to shoot her in the head.”

“Shoot her in the head?” Dean knew he must sound incredulous. Here they were surrounded by – by dead things, their lives in danger, their energies being drained and yet all he could actually process is that Sam had told him to shoot the big evil in the head. No questions asked, no quarter given.

“Yeah, haven’t you always wanted to be a zombie hunter, you know, a little like Ash in the _Evil Dead_ ,” Sam gasped out a weak laugh, slumping hard against Dean, making Dean realize that it was urgent that they move, that they get out of here.

Before he could move though, the scene flickered before him again and – instead of rotting flesh and stinking mud he saw deep blue sea and a bright sunny sky. Rebecca walked towards him; she looked kind and almost motherly, her long blonde hair blowing in the breeze. She was flanked by topless girls carrying trays of martinis and tempting snacks. Dean blinked and he felt Sam list against him, heard Sam’s voice urgent in his ears.

“Dean,” Sam ground out. “You have to shoot her in the head. They - the dead they are all around her, feeding off her power, you have to break through these visions again.”

Dean felt lost for a moment; confused. Rebecca held out her hands to him, her eyes full of sympathy.

“Dean your brother, he needs help.”

“No, I saw it,” Dean swallowed hard, eyes squeezing shut. “I saw it all Rebecca – game over.”

With those words Dean pulled the gun from the back of his jeans and aimed it at Rebecca’s head. The older woman screamed and began to shake her head, tears in her eyes.

“Dean, please, what would John say? I’m not a monster.”

Dean ignored her pleas; he held the gun firm, Sam leaning against him, encouraging him. He had to do this for Sam – for both of them. The gun retorted in his hand and Rebecca screamed long and loud and everything around them wavered and flickered and then seemed to implode.

****

Sam’s head hurt; he was lying on soft earth and there was the strong scent of freshly mowed grass. He felt a gentle hand on his forehead and he opened his eyes slowly to find Dean gazing down at him, green eyes full of relief and guilt.

“Where are we?” Sam managed, his whole body aching, his eyes sore, his cheeks wet.

“Florida somewhere.” Dean shrugged. “But I don’t know where.” He stroked his fingers through Sam’s hair. “We need to find the car,” he said. “And then somewhere where we can stay the night, get some sleep and try to work out what the fuck happened.”

“She wanted to control the whole world,” Sam said with some certainty, although he had no idea how he knew that or indeed why. “The dead gave her immense power but she also needed to feed from the living. Who knows how many people she lured to that place. I guess she used dad because she knew we would help out anyone who knew him, help out a fellow _‘hunter’_.” He sat up slowly, groaning against the pain in his head. He could see, now, that they were on the crest of a hill. The sea was far below them, waves crashing against orange sand, people swimming, enjoying their vacation. There was nothing odd or weird about it, just a sense of, almost dull, normality. They had done their job and killed the monster and Sam wouldn’t let his brother feel anymore guilt about it.

“We should stay here for a while,” he said, finally and was rewarded with a look of surprise and amazement from Dean. “Maybe take a _‘real’_ vacation. Just find a nice, normal motel with a pool, buy some shorts and take in the rays.” He laughed at Dean’s expression but felt even better when his brother rewarded him with a huge, happy smile.

“No topless girls or luxury rooms,” Dean sighed. “No wet t-shirt competitions.”

“No, but we are in Florida and Disney might be high on the agenda.” Sam rubbed his head and let himself lean briefly against Dean’s chest moving away quickly before his brother could accuse him of cuddling.

“Okay, we find my baby, book into a normal motel and go and see Mickey.” Dean knew that he was forgiven and the look of relief on his face was a joy to behold.

“Sounds like a plan,” Sam said and although life wasn’t perfect he wasn’t sure he wanted it to be. Rebecca had shown them paradise but it wasn’t normal for them, it wasn’t right. They didn’t need extravagance or indulgence. They had each other and that right there was enough.

End


End file.
